


Eighteen Hours

by fictionallemons



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Guilt, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, One Shot, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 23:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionallemons/pseuds/fictionallemons
Summary: Benji and Luther rescue Ethan from kidnappers. Benji's having a hard time dealing.





	Eighteen Hours

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry! I don't even know. This is dark, for me, but it has a hopeful ending, so don't worry.

When Luther and Benji find Ethan, he's been gone for eighteen hours. The first hour, no one had worried. The second hour, after he'd missed his rendezvous, Benji's gut had twisted with an unpleasant sensation. Ethan almost never missed a rendezvous. The next eight hours were hell. Then they'd gotten the ransom note, and the seven and half hours after that had been worse. The last thirty minutes passed in a blur of stealthy approach to the warehouse, and the satisfying pressure of his finger on the trigger of his Sig Sauer as one by one they took out the operatives who'd decided they could ransom Ethan Hunt for the five million dollars they want to fund their terrorist plot.

With each and every perpetrator taken care of, Benji and Luther turn their attention to Ethan, who's sitting on a metal chair, his hands bound behind him. Sitting is a bit of misnomer. He's lolling, really, barely conscious. Benji freezes at the sight, leaving Luther to approach Ethan gingerly, switchblade out, to free him from his bindings, to ease him to standing, to take his weight when his knees buckle beneath him. Benji catalogues everything he sees, from Ethan's torn and dirty shirt, which looks shiny in some places, as if wet. _Wet with blood_ Benji's mind supplies, as it keeps on whirring away even as Benji can't move. One eye is swollen shut, his mouth a pulpy mess, his hair matted. He holds himself stiffly, as if there's something wrong with his ribs, or maybe his arm. Maybe both.

Luther says meaningless words of reassurance as he practically carries Ethan out of that place, Benji following behind silently. Luther places Ethan in the back of the car, laying him down as carefully as he might a baby. Benji drives, because he's a good driver and he knows where he's going and also because if he has the excuse of keeping his eyes on the road he won't have to look at Ethan's battered body. He's not even sure Ethan's conscious now. He hopes he isn't. He hopes that in his unconsciousness he's got some measure of relief from the pain.

The hospital is too far away, but they get there, screeching into an ambulance bay right next to the A&E department. Luther's out of the car, hauling the first available medical professional toward them before Benji's even been able to unbuckle his seatbelt. It takes less than a minute before Ethan's been carefully loaded onto a gurney, taken inside, Luther sticking to him like glue. Benji watches them disappear behind the glass doors, and then he realizes someone is shouting at him to move the car, so he climbs back behind the wheel.

His hands are shaking. It's hard to see through the haze of hot tears in his eyes, but he manages to find a spot to leave the car. If it gets towed, who cares. He hikes back to the entrance. An ambulance has just pulled up, another patient disgorged. He images there's an endless flow to this place, the sick, the hurt, the dying all pushed here by the invisible river of fate. Some of them, if they're lucky, get to leave, a little bit better, a bit closer to whole than when they came in.

He's terrified that Ethan won't be one of the lucky ones. That his luck has run out, finally, completely. And that Benji wasn't able to save him, because it took them eighteen _bloody_ hours to find him. Eighteen hours where he was at the mercy of psychopathic terrorists. Eighteen hours when Benji couldn't get to him, couldn't protect him, couldn't put his body between Ethan's and those terrorists. If he could have stepped in front of every blow, he would have. Gladly. But he hadn't been there. And Ethan's healthy, strong body is lying broken in a hospital bed.

He stares at the glass doors, the bright lights of the A&E department beyond until his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out on auto-pilot. It's a text, from Luther. A room number and a question. _Where are you?_

God bless Luther, Benji thinks. He's not certain he'll be able to make his feet move in the correct direction, but he can't make Luther worry over him. He texts back. _On my way._ He forces himself to move, to walk into the building, to breath in the frigid, air conditioned air that smells of chemicals and cleaning supplies, to locate the floor, the room, to take the elevator up, to walk down the hall, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. 

He stops just outside the door. There's a doctor inside, speaking in a low voice. He hears "concussion," and "broken arm," and "fluids." He doesn't hear "internal bleeding," and he relaxes a degree. Then Luther says something, and the doctor replies "next of kin….authorization."

He takes a deep breath. He wipes his eyes. He walks in. Ethan's on the bed, breathing tubes in his nose, IV dripping steadily into his arm. He's still a mess, but someone's washed most of the blood off of his face. Benji feels a surge of nausea. He should have been the one to wash the blood off Ethan's beautiful face. 

His eyes track to the IV tubes taped to the back of Ethan's hand. He sees the glint of gold on Ethan's finger. He remembers what Ethan said to him that day, that they couldn't know how long they had left, but he'd be happy every minute from now until the end knowing they belonged to each other, that they were there for the other, no matter what. 

Benji failed today. But he won't give up. He'd never give up on Ethan, or on trying to live up to Ethan's love.

Luther and the doctor are staring at him. He clears his throat, glances down at the matching ring on his left hand, that gold band he's still not gotten quite used to two months in. He turns to the doctor. "I'm Benjamin Dunn-Hunt. This is my husband. What do I need to do?"

**Author's Note:**

> And Ethan makes a full recovery with Benji there for him every step of the way and Ethan convinces Benji that none of it was his fault and they all lived happily ever after the end.


End file.
